


Half Power

by thesilverarrow



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fighting As Foreplay, Leaning into the sorcery stuff because it's fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 13:49:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13319478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverarrow/pseuds/thesilverarrow
Summary: It happened while they were sparring. Of course it did.





	Half Power

**Author's Note:**

> Let's place this in some problem-free best-case-scenario time immediately post-Ragnarok, while they're on the ship.

It happened while they were sparring. Of course it did.

There was nothing else to do on the bloody ship, nothing that made one feel awake and alive. It turned out that Loki was pretty physically capable, even when he was (supposedly) not using any magic -- Thor's idea, both Loki's regular training sessions and his not depending on the sorcery.

Loki stood in front of her, preparing to attack. He didn't have any truly casual clothes, as far as she could see, but during their training he was generally a bit less formal. That was mostly fine, seeing as how they didn't always work up a sweat. It was more about strategy.

Today, he was in a pair of black slacks and a black jumper with a v-shaped neckline, something that, judging from Banner's wardrobe, looked to be earth clothing. It suited him, accentuating his narrow hips and surprisingly toned shoulders and chest. For a lanky guy, he was no lightweight. Not that that helped him at all when it came to fighting a valkyrie, even out of her serious gear. 

He planted himself on bare feet and lunged forward, aiming a punch at her face that she easily blocked.

He didn't look particularly deflated -- she supposed he was used to it after so many sessions -- but he said, "Does this not get tiresome for you?"

"Kicking your ass?" she replied, then she let fly a sharp but not very forceful jab to see if he could block it. He did, handily. "Nope."

Another punch from him, this one weaker but more on target. 

He said, "Holding back, I mean."

"Knowing I could kick your ass harder at any moment? Also nope."

She thought for a moment that he'd noticed how she was fidgeting -- she always tends to pull at her light armor when she's antsy -- because he was studying her carefully, like he was planning something new.

But then he dropped his head back and let his arms go slack, saying:

"But seriously, love, why do you even bother?"

She didn't exactly freeze, but somewhere deep down, she was unaccountably shaken to be called ‘love.' Not that it meant anything, really -- other than, of course, that Loki was altogether comfortable with her. Too comfortable. No longer intimidated.

No. She watched him get back into stance, gear up for a kick, and she saw it in his eyes.

Bored.

"I see," she said, dropping back just as he was about to bring up his leg. "It's getting tiresome for _you_."

He snorted and gave her a small smile. 

"Not exactly the way I'd describe it," he murmured. Then he sighed. "It is indeed difficult to physically fight you, especially knowing I stand little chance of overpowering you this way. But I wonder how much harder it is because I'm wasting mental energy trying not to use my real strength to blast you into the wall."

In a tired huff, she barked: "Then use it."

"I'll hurt you," he said, staring her down a bit. Or trying to, anyway.

"Will you, though?" she replied with a sharp grin. 

"I could. Perhaps I would. How do you know I'll have any restraint?"

"You've been having restraint for ages now, yeah? I've knocked you on your ass pretty good a few times, and you didn't react instinctively in the way I know you can. If you're trying to sell me on the idea that you don't do exactly what you want, when you want to do it, I'm not buying."

That had the desired effect, probably because it was both flattering and true. She'd never met anyone quite so self-controlled. It was a little maddening, to be honest. She was maybe willing to have an arm broken or a rib fractured if it meant he stopped stopping himself. She's seen him in an uncontrolled fury a couple of times now, and it was…

Well, it was fucking beautiful. 

Except an uncontrolled fury was, well, a really stupid risk, especially outside of battle. She had no doubt that, if he wanted to, he could very well knock her ass down and make it so she never got back up again. Before the prince went full-on electric, Loki might've even been able to take him out, at least when he didn't have his hammer. Magic is scary shit. Magic in the hands of a person of dubious morals, well…

Loki hadn't moved, but she could see that he was mentally sort of withdrawn, pondering things. It made her more than a little nervous.

Finally, he said, "You believe I've been doing this voluntarily?"

"Haven't you?"

"Yes. Which means I have an ulterior motive."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you do."

"You'd be surprised to know what it is."

"I probably wouldn't," she replied, "but you clearly want to make some kind of pronouncement, so go ahead." She crossed her arms.

"I was aiming at atonement."

"For which of your many misdeeds, hmm?"

She was surprised to see him look a little uncertain, like maybe he regretted the admission. But only for a moment -- because there was no way he hadn't already calculated what he would say and why.

"After I pressed into your past so rudely, I felt you would be more comfortable with me if I gave you back a measure of control."

There were many things she could say to his kind of patronizing face -- _as if I was out of control, as if I couldn't take it back myself_ \-- but none of that mattered as much as one question:

"Why would you want me to be comfortable with you?"

Apparently, he didn't expect that, but he affected coolness and shrugged, saying, "Why not?"

That was when she decided maybe this _was_ getting pretty damn boring.

Unceremoniously, she kicked him in the chest and knocked him to the floor. Mercifully, the wind was knocked out of him, so she had a few beats to brace herself, and to say, in case it wasn't clear:

"Done being comfortable."

At that, she saw a gleam in his eyes, one that he had never quite let show during their hand-to-hand training. Mostly, it was quick barbs of his tongue, such that she'd actually grown to enjoy their sparring sessions. But it wasn't enough. It was the most frustrating half-flirtatious, half-threatening banter she'd ever engaged in, and as pleasant as it was in the moment, afterwards she could never make heads or tails of it. Probably the point. But now, with one small but very wicked smile, she could. 

Goddamn, she thought. How fucking stupid can a person be?

And that was when he disappeared.

It was something she knew he could do, had seen him do, but he had never had done it to her. She braced herself and put all her attention into listening. He was just playing with her now, acting so supremely confident that she couldn't think of anything more appropriate than shoving him to the ground and--

There. He was behind her, of course, but as she spun around she saw that there were also two of him, which was just…

"Not fair," she barked. "Physical stuff, not fucking trickery."

He spun himself into two more duplicates before letting three of them go up in a swirl of light. Then he disappeared again. When she turned, he wasn't there. His voice came from behind her.

He'd never moved.

"It's all trickery," he said.

She rounded on him again, holding her fists tight at her sides. 

"You know what I mean," she barked.

"I know you're taking all the fun out of it."

"You gotta let me figure out how to deal with the basics first. Mind games later."

"Why would I play mind games with you?"

"That's just who you are. If that particularly scared me, I wouldn't come down here and meet you every day so we can apparently bore the shit out of each other."

"Why do you bother?"

"Why do _you_?"

He just shrugged. She took the opportunity to lunge toward him and push. He stumbled the couple of steps until his back made contact with the wall, a dull thud followed by his sharp exhalation.

His eyes went wide, but with appreciation more than fear. Something like the face he made when he realized she was what she was. 

"What?" she said, already right there with him, hands on his shoulders, pressing him a little harder into the wall -- and realizing, suddenly, that he was allowing her to. It was equal parts gratifying and infuriating. 

"Yes," he said, voice tight with the pressure she kept on his chest. "It is so tiresome, but only because I've seen you do so much more."

"You, too."

At that, he raised his chin with a jerk and suddenly she went flying across the room. She landed on her ass with an awkward thump, thankful for the mats on the floor.

Before she could orient herself much less stand up, he had her pinned to the ground, on her back -- all without touching her, of course. As he slowly walked over to her, she could see that he was holding up two hands, as if commanding the very air to hold her fast.

"Do you have to do that," she said, "or is it just for show? The hands, I mean."

"Both, in a way," he replied. "It's purely mental, of course, but physical gestures help me focus, especially in combat."

"So it's not just theatrics?"

"I seriously doubt that would impress you."

"Correct," she said, then she smiled -- hopefully not too widely, or he would be on his guard.

"You know, I gotta admit, the magic is kinda impressive."

"Just _kinda_? I'll endeavor to do better."

"You know what I've always thought, though?" she said.

Feigning boredom -- it would have to be feigned now, because he was totally immersed in the experience in a way he usually wasn't -- he said, "Enlighten me."

"I say to myself: The dark prince, I imagine he puts that magic to use when he's taking someone to bed."

His eyes narrowed. "You imagine?" he said, skepticism written all over his face. His posture hadn't changed, just his eyes.

"Frequently," she replied, and she was surprised to hear how far her voice dropped and how effortlessly she turned on the seduction.

Clearly, he knew it was a ploy. She could see that in the twitch of his lips, the reflex to react by not reacting. The hell of it was it worked anyway. Either she was reading more sincere than she meant or maybe he was too eager to believe her. Whatever the case, he smiled and closed his eyes -- just long enough, apparently, for his mental control to slip. 

She was halfway to her feet before he clamped down again, although not for long. She felt the wall of power coming from him recede, leaving a crackling tension in its wake. As smug as he'd been about knocking her to the floor, he looked oddly excited to have her on her feet again.

"Do you really believe that? That I seduce people with sorcery?" he asked. He hadn't moved, but he was carefully tracking her with his eyes as she began to move in an arc around him, around the room.

"I think you do if it suits you," she said coolly as she walked. "Because it's fun. Because just about anybody would, if they had the ability."

He gave a small nod.

Then she added, "But I seriously doubt you need to, so you probably don't."

"Mostly correct," he said, still studying her face but not actually bracing himself for anything. Just waiting -- for her to make a wicked comment, for her to pounce. 

It was as clear an invitation as she was likely to get, which is why she didn't take it. Instead, she waited until her circuit brought her face to face with him again, then stopped and settled herself on the ground. She sat with her knees up, arms slung over them, eyeing him nonchalantly. 

"Mostly?" she asked.

Slowly, maddeningly slowly, he crossed the room toward her. She didn't change her posture, and he came right up into her personal space, towering over her, before making a show of dropping to his knees.

"I could show you what I mean," he said, letting his voice go soft, which, whether he meant it to or not, had the effect of making her hair stand on end.

"Same rules," she said, just able to keep herself from giving in to a full-body shiver. "No trickery. I'm not keen on the mindfucking."

At that, he did something extraordinary. Unexpected, really, because his expression didn't change. He simply placed his open palm over her hand and closed his eyes and there it was.

It felt different receiving a memory than giving one, but it was no less intimate. It was like entering someone else's dream, except the flashes of story made complete sense. What it boiled down to was this: here was Loki, not a virgin but still so unsure about himself, his body, making the beast with two backs with a girl that looked too sweet to be true. And she was. The sting of her masquerade, her duplicity, learned too late, was like a physical slap.

When Loki pulled his hand away, the image slowly dissipated in her mind; she assumed from this that he didn't strictly have to touch her to do it. He'd wanted to. Maybe he'd been wanting to touch her for a while now, Loki of this suddenly earnest face and these long thin fingers, now perched on her knee. And of this vulnerable memory -- which, knowing him, may or may not be real, but somehow had a ring of truth anyway.

"I do not enjoy mixing sex and psychic manipulation," he said, finally. Then his mouth curved into a sly smile. "Unless it's consensual, that is."

"Like sparring, then. Voluntarily going at half power."

"Just half?" he replied with a grimace. "I thought at least three quarters."

"Not sure you can handle three quarters."

He didn't reply to that, just smiled a frankly terrifying smile. After a long, charged pause, he moved like he would lean in, but instead he sat back on his heels and placed his hands on his thighs, a pose that looked like meditation. She wasn't foolish enough to believe it, though. One thing he had going for him in a fight was his ability to mask what he was thinking, what he was about to do. If her reflexes weren't so good, he might've taken her too much by surprise on many occasions.

"I assume you know that you are distractingly beautiful," he said, so much studied smoothness in his voice that she sort of wanted to smack him. Except she didn't at all. It was a hell of a thing. 

He continued, "I want you to know that, should you wish it, I would indeed take you to bed, slowly and thoroughly explore every wickedly strong inch of you. But I suspect that isn't your way. And I know that, despite my attempt to rectify certain imbalances, you don't trust me. You would rather have me here, fast and hard and with little time to talk yourself out of it."

"You're wrong."

"In what way?"

She just gave him a sly smile and said, "C'mere and see."

She dropped her legs, and he crawled toward her, finally straddling her lap, his inner thighs bracketing her hips. A weird kind of power radiated out of him, something distinct from the usual tension in his arms and chest as he threw punches or grappled with her. When his fingers brushed her neck, she closed her eyes, and he took that as permission to move.

She had half expected he wouldn't kiss her. Men like this usually wanted either to use her or, more rarely but just as bad, to spend all their time proving how skilled they could be at giving pleasure. She was surprised when he leaned in and kissed her on the mouth, soft and wet and excruciatingly slowly.

As they settled into the kiss, he hummed a little in the back of his throat, a satisfied sound that made her stomach sort of flop. He hadn't let his body sink into hers yet, but she was already this close to overwhelmed. She hadn't realized how much of his magic was so physically there, all the time. 

Of course, some of her reaction had nothing to do with that at all. It has been a long time, and he smelled good. Of course he fucking did. And his face was smooth, so wonderfully clean-shaven that she was already having thoughts about where that smooth face, that needy mouth might go.

When he finally probed into her mouth with his tongue, she felt herself react with a groan. She reached out with one hand and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him deeper into the kiss, just for a moment, before drawing back and nipping at his bottom lip. 

Fingers now tangled in his hair, she said in his ear, "To be clear, a bed does sound nice. It's just that I'm not feeling patient at the moment."

"Good," he said, then he leaned into her with all his weight and she let herself drop down onto her back. Crouched above her now, he said, "Patience can be overrated."

Once he re-positioned himself between her thighs and settled down into her, she could feel just how very hard he was. He groaned a little as he rutted against her, as his lips found her neck, and he was already working at the buckles holding her top fast.

She palmed him through his trousers, by way of distraction and, honestly, just to see his reaction. If he lost focus on unbinding her or simply lost himself to pleasure, it wasn't for long. As she had imagined, it made him more aggressive. With a sort of growl, he brought his body down to cover hers again, kissed her hard on the mouth, rutted against her hips with such force she was beginning to think maybe they wouldn't get to the naked part at all, just writhe on the floor like animals. 

He apparently had the same realization, because he pulled his body back a bit, panting into her shoulder. 

"I would very much like to be inside you," he said, his voice sure but not at all steady. "We could do that here, now, just like this. But if you'll allow me, I have a better suggestion."

"I'll allow you," she murmured against his throat. "As long as it means you doing something useful with this." At that, she gave his cock a quick squeeze through his trousers.

His eyes closed for a long beat, then he pulled himself up and stood, holding out his hand to her to join him.

When she got to her feet, he wasted no time unfastening all the things that needed unfastening to finally leave her naked from the waist up. When he turned away to pull his own shirt over his head and discard it on the floor, she took advantage of the opportunity to grab him by the waist and draw his ass back and into the cradle of her hips. Before he could wiggle away, she slipped her hands down into his pants, finding his hard cock already wet at the tip. His hips gave a small involuntary thrust, pushing him through her fist. 

Mouth wet and open against the muscles of his taut back, she said: "Your suggestion?"

Without much warning, her back was suddenly against the wall, and she was now face to face with him. It was disorienting, but just for a second, mainly because she hadn't been thrown. 

Teleportation. Now wasn't that just...

She didn't have much time to wonder or contemplate because his hands were all over her. One was on her breast, finding a nipple already achingly tight, an ache that was only intensified when he slipped the other down into her pants, fingers parting her and seeking out her clit. She squirmed against his hand, and he smiled as he brought his mouth to her breast and softly sucked at the nipple. 

As his teasing mouth left her breast to kiss and nip its way up over her collarbone, he murmured, "I've found that magic in sex is best used not for seduction but for logistics. Strength. Balance. Transportation." Then he looked up at her with wet lips and blown pupils as he said, "Would it be okay if I fucked you against this wall?"

"Can you magic off our pants?"

He giggled -- actually fucking giggled -- and said, "I could, but sometimes undressing is half of the fun."

He released her, somewhat reluctantly, so they could both strip off the rest of their clothing. In contrast to his pale skin, his cock was flushed with blood, pleasingly powerful there rising from its thatch of dark hair. His eyes, however, looked solicitous, like he was trying to both get a handle on her reaction to his body and decide if she was, after all, really interested in doing this.

"Not having second thoughts, are you?" she said as she stepped closer to him again.

"And third," he said with a sudden, open grin, his hands coming up to her breasts again, now just cradling them, brushing his thumbs over her nipples. "And fourth. So many ideas. But for now, come here."

Deftly, he hoisted her up into his arms. She could instantly feel that something was holding her up besides his hands, and that something was steadying the both of them. After her back hit the wall again, he ducked his head and nipped at her shoulder. He was concentrating on shifting her weight until everything came into balance.

Finally, he said, "Guide me," so she reached between them to help the head of his dick find her slick opening.

As promised, he fucked her into the wall, and hard. Once they found a rhythm, his strokes were fluid and even, frustrating but not because they were boring. Actually, it didn't take much time for him to get her so very close, and then he just… kept her there.

Eventually, he was also fucking her mouth with his tongue. She tore her lips away from his to take a few gulping breaths, and she was happy to hear him panting as well.

"Fuck, that's good," she murmured.

He merely hummed his agreement, but soon, as if in response, he held her a little closer, kissed her again, teasingly. His strokes slowed and a hand drifted down between them to nudge her thighs open wider. Now she could really feel the length of him, hot and heavy, sliding in and out, like she was lying wanton and desperate on a bed, not hefted into a tight embrace against a wall. It felt dirty, in a really nice way, probably at least in part because it was so messy -- on whose account, she couldn't tell. Maybe both of them. 

In contrast to his thrusts, his fingers drifted soft over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

"Will you come?" he asked, and his fingers brushed her clit. Not an order or a plea but a genuine question.

She nudged his arm until his hand slipped out of position, saying in his mouth, "I may use my fingers, but I won't need them if you just let me fuck myself on your cock."

He actually sort of growled at that, and said, "Use me as you please." 

After that, he was by no means passive, but he let her set the pace and the intensity. She held him close and he made small, deep strokes, grinding his pelvis against hers and whispering encouragement in her ear. Quickly, her bitten-back moans turned to sort of undignified squeaks, a helpless sound that tore out of her with every thrust. She could feel him holding himself back, and that made her want to come more than anything, to make him tumble over with her.

"Yes," she said, high and breathy and desperate. "Fuck, yes, Loki, _fuck_."

At that, he groaned and shoved in deep, rocking hard into her.

She came so hard it took her a moment to realize he'd followed her, had maybe even started to come before he felt her walls squeezing around him. For a desperate few strokes, everything was all wet heat and her fingernails digging into his skin and his voice rumbling out his pleasure in words she couldn't understand. They stayed like that, his softening cock still inside her, unwilling to break their embrace, as their breathing came under control and their pulses slowed.

She took a deep breath and let it out with a ragged chuckle. 

"Gods," she said.

She heard his smile as he said against her temple, "Technically, I'm not a deity, just an unconventionally sized frost giant."

"Whatever you are, you just fucked the brains out of a valkyrie."

He shivered, and she felt their balance give, just a bit. Soon, he was pulling out and releasing the spell that had bound them into equilibrium.

He watched her as she re-assembled her clothing and began tugging it back on. He was apparently quite comfortable naked now that the deed was done, although once she was clothed again he nonchalantly spelled himself back into his trousers and jumper. Asshole.

It was interesting sharing the space with him now. She was hyper aware of his body and his energy. More than that, she felt like something had shifted between them. It wasn't like they were being more real with each other, just less fucking cagey and coy about everything. That was good -- that kind of tension could be fun, but they were past that now, and forthrightness suited both of them better.

"I think we should rethink this arrangement," she finally said. "The sparring, I mean."

"Oh?"

"It'll be way more fun if you break out the sorcery."

"Agreed. Half power?"

"Sure."

"I fear it could end up like this more often than not."

"I don't fear," she replied. "I know. Unless that's a problem for you."

He smiled, and she could see why he didn't do that very often: he did not look like the intimidating dark prince but the delighted lord of mischief. 

"For my back, perhaps."

"You, like, teleported us before, didn't you? You can teleport us to a bed, yeah?"

"I can. The farther we go, the dizzier you'll be."

"Too dizzy?"

"In my experience, no."

"Ah, so these are your moves?" she said with a grin.

He gave her a small eyeroll, saying, "One works with what one has, limited though the arsenal may be."

She stepped up into his personal space again. "Didn't seem limited to me."

He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "That's because I'm a very good at being what I am."

She expected him to make some kind of mysterious, puff-of-smoke exit at that, but instead he simply kissed her on the temple and turned for the door. 

She watched him as he retreated, filing away for future reference the shine of his long dark hair, the tight slope of his shoulders, and the slight, unconscious sway of his hips. A not particularly threatening pretty-boy, from this angle, where you can't see the set of his jaw and the dangerous purpose in his eyes.

She called out to him, "You can see how that might be a bit worrisome to a person."

"I certainly can," he replied without turning. Then he stepped out into the noisy corridor, instantly cladding himself in his usual black and green garb. 

As she gathered her things, she wondered if she should tell Thor about their new arrangement, at least the non-naked aspects of it. She suspected that he would not be surprised.

"About any of it," she muttered to herself.


End file.
